


The Rules Are Wrong

by Zelda148



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Person, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 12:23:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelda148/pseuds/Zelda148





	The Rules Are Wrong

"Stop it!"

"No."

"Sherlock, I'm warning you!"

"He killed himself!"

"He did not!" I shout across the table as Sherlock stands up abruptly, knocking the chair behind him over.

"It's the ONLY possible solution. I've thought it through." He glances over his shoulder at me, speaking as if I'm a child.

"No, you know what the only possible solution is?"

"What I said."

"No." I pick up the envelope on from the table in front of me. "The only possible solution is..." Pulling the envelope open I rip the contents from it. "Mrs Peacock with the rope in the FUCKING ballroom."

"NO IT'S NOT!"

"It's in THE RULES!"

"I've already told you, the rules are wrong." He's staring out the window but I can tell he's pouting.

I push my chair out, the sound of it on the ground grating against my ears and walk into our room. Grabbing a coat and my wallet I leave the flat without a sound but hear a shout after me.

"Don't sulk John."

I ignore him.

Walking quickly away from Baker Street, I don't realise where I'm heading and just keep walking but I do realise; I actually missed the fighting. I missed the heated screaming at each other, and the way he looks at me as though everything I say is utterly ridiculous. I missed the way he softened around Mrs Hudson and his complete ignorance about everything social or personal.

Without noticing I've made it all the way to Alwyn's, the little cafe Molly took me to just after he, after he left. I step through the door, taking a moment to inhale the smell of baking and old books.

I quietly place my order with a new waitress, having to repeat myself as she fumbles about putting a slice of cake on a plate. Moving towards the end of the counter to pay I look up and smile.

"Hey John." Ceri grins back at me, characteristically cheery, as I hand over my money.

"Hey. How are you?"

"I'm fine thanks." She gives me my change and my receipt.

"How's your sister?"

"She's great, she's coming home tomorrow."

"Brilliant." I take my plate off her and turn away.

"Your table's free." She winks at me and chuckles, nodding her head towards the corner of the room.

"Thanks."

"I'll bring your coffee over in a minute."

I make my way to the table and push the cake away from me. I'll wait until I have my coffee. Reaching across the table I find my favourite book and leaf through the pages, scanning the quotes to find one's I haven't read. I'm unsucessful. Resorting to my usual routine I admire the gold edging on the pages and lettering on the cover while nibbling on my cake. Before my coffee even reaches the table, as always.

A shadow appears over my table and I can smell the coffee.

"Thanks Ceri."

The cup and saucer clatter on the table, the fingers holding them too masculine to be the waitress.

"You should know better than that John."

"What do you want?" I meet his eyes and he puts his hand over mine. He uses his other hand to stir sugar into my black coffee and sip it, all the while looking me straight in the eye. He takes a bite of my cake and swallows before leaning closer to me.

I can feel his breath against my cheeks and lips, the smell of cigarettes almost overpowered by that of coffee. The flush rising up my neck is warm, as is his hand on top of mine. I can hear his breathing and close my eyes for a second, absorbing what my senses are telling me. Opening them again I can see his pulse, beating in his neck. Faster than usual.

He leans in closer again, his lips just touching mine. I can feel the eyes of people around me boring into me, making assumptions and judging me but allow myself to get lost in the moment.

I kiss him gently, expecting him to pull away but he kisses me back, fast and eager. He pulls me against him, his hand on the back of my head and we intertwine our fingers on the table. I can feel the scars on his fingers and can taste the nicotine on his tongue but keep kissing him nonetheless. The urgency from him is shocking and I respond by kissing him harder. He lets out a quiet moan and we both stop, eyes opening to see the amusement in each other.

I pull away to see the people surrounding us staring. Unsure whether it's from the public display of affection or the man who is not meant to be here, I sit back in my chair but keep my hands on the table with his.

"Isn't this against your rules? You know, no having feelings or emotional connection. I think kissing comes under those categories."

"Well." He takes another bite of cake, nonchalantly acting as though it's perfectly normal to be sat in a cafe where everyone is wondering why you're acting so strangely. "Maybe the rules are wrong."


End file.
